Summertime.

Ben and I came home from last night's workouts giddy like schoolgirls. He immediately sat down to the computer to see the gizmo's testimonial to his work - 973 watts for 60 minutes with spikes to 1600 or somesuch- and I reached for the shower beer, knowing that I earned it, numbers be damned. It's all good news on these sunny days, until the washer starts sounding like an AK47 and the overflow of workout hormones has us shouting for no reason, but that's short lived. When the biggest problem is overcooking tofu on the grill, things can't be all that bad.

Naturally he was flying down the path and I was chasing the whole time, but I have my game and he has his. It's discouraging to think in comparison-- that and it doesn't even make sense. I'm slow. And coming from the back of the pack to midpack is improvement enough for me, should I ever get there. Not even sure what I'm training for now... Cheq? Last summer the motivation was a wedding dress. This summer it's... tbd.

Ben pulled Okashii down from its perch last night and dusted her off for tonight's jaunt. Hopefully I don't make a complete fool of myself. Scratch that: hopefully, if I do make a complete fool of myself, I'll do it with a smile.